


i have shattered under midnight

by yunmin



Series: starlight [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Founding of the Resistance, Friendship, Jedi Temple Massacre 2.0, M/M, New Republic, New Republic era, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rogues and Wraiths, Wedge stages a one-man manhunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 17:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7582606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Luke,” Wedge says, looking at the sky from the top of the ice mountains on Falleen. “I don’t know where you are, but could you please come back to us now?”</i>
</p><p>After the massacre at the New Jedi Temple, Luke Skywalker goes missing, and Wedge Antilles starts a search across the Galaxy for the man he once loved. But finding Luke was never going to be simple, and no matter how many old friends Wedge enlists, maybe Luke is going to stay hidden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have shattered under midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This obviously started as a elaboration on the “Wedge spends six months looking for Luke” thing that was mentioned in i have toured the endless starlight (take me home) though I never intended to end up with 14k+ of pining. The title for this fic is from the same song that gave that fic its name; [Starlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OB0xsR9bUY), by The Wailin Jennys. With thanks to Sarah for this piece of meta which solidified a bunch of ideas about how the Resistance was founded. Also, where are the six million fics exploring this bit of the timeline? I’m vaguely disappointed that there aren’t more.
> 
> The canon gets a bit screwy – it’s technically new-movie canon, but I’ve borrowed a fair bit from Legends as far as Wedge’s backstory / what he’s been doing for the last fifteen years, and then of course there’s the whole Aftermath / Rebel / Fulcrum mess that I don’t know how Rebels is actually going to choose to play, but I’m fairly attached to the idea of Ahsoka Tano and Wedge knowing each other, so a little of that has survived the (minor) rewrites this thing had after the Rebels S3 trailer dropped. I imagine I have everything all wrong.
> 
> Also, you definitely don’t need to have read i have toured the endless starlight (take me home) to understand this, but if you haven’t, you might want to read bits of it afterward to see where Wedge ends up. This is the main fic I was hinting at when I said there would be more in that verse, but I now have a couple more things up my sleeve.
> 
> Finally, I really hope you enjoy!

Wedge doesn’t hear about the attack on the Jedi temple straight away.

He’s in the Outer Rim, right on the border with Wild Space. Communications have been a problem since the mission started. All they hear is rumours, fractured whispers about something having gone wrong.

Even though it’s been years, Wedge still has to fight every instinct in his body that tells him to go. Luke doesn’t need him any more; never has, if Wedge is being brutally honest with himself. If it was serious, if Luke was dead or badly injured, he’d know. Leia would have got a message to him, even out at the back of beyond.

Wedge sticks to the old mantra that no news is good news, and does his job. Duty always comes first, after all.

.

When Wedge finally ships back to somewhere resembling civilisation, he learns that he was wrong.

He’d assumed that the attack on the temple was minor. The same thing it always was. Someone from one of the sects that idolised the Sith, or rejected the Jedi, or some long forgotten remnant of the Empire, trying to take down the New Jedi Order. There had been enough of them over the years. They’d all failed. Wedge had played his part in thwarting a few of them.

Only this time, it wasn’t any of that.

The temple population has been wiped out, by a group calling themselves the Knights of Ren. A massacre of everyone who was there. Younglings, students, padawans, all had fallen indiscriminately under lightsaber blades. Luke is still alive, but was badly injured in defence of his students. From the way Wes describes it – and Wedge feels a chill go up his spine as he reads Wes’s message, because it’s _Wes_ , and if he thinks it’s bad it really is – Luke is very lucky to be alive. He’s sent Wedge all the details, attached the medical report and casualty list. It’s grim reading, especially looking over Luke’s injuries. Wes is right, it’s nothing short of a miracle that Luke is still alive.

As if that wasn’t enough, Ben Organa-Solo is missing.

Many would consider missing better than dead, which is the alternative. Wedge isn’t one of those people, and Leia and Han aren’t either. They all know that missing can drag on for years, the idea of hope a noose around one’s neck that cannot be escaped. Missing means life, and life means pain. The living can be tortured; the dead cannot feel pain. Death brings a known quantity. Ben has been a target all his life, as the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo, nephew of Luke Skywalker, and there are plenty who would like to get their hands on him, to use him against the Republic.

(Wedge has never been fond of the man that Ben Organa-Solo is growing up to be, but that doesn’t mean he’d wish torture on the boy.)

However, those who would wish to take him have always known one thing: Leia and Han will tear the Galaxy apart in search of their child. This time is no different.

Technically, Wedge hasn’t received his new assignment yet. He has his suspicions of what it might be; there have been rumblings of a posting to the Naval Academy for moths now. Too valuable, Fleet Command thinks, to be on the frontlines, and Wedge won’t take a promotion. So they’ve found an alternate solution. However, this is all theoretical. And it’s not dereliction of duty if he had no duty to attend to.

(He also has a mountain of un-taken leave, which Command occasionally reminds him about. He’s never found reason to take it. Dreamt, sometimes, of a world in which he might have someone to go home to, of finding an excuse to call in on Luke at the temple. But those are dreams, and Wedge lives in the cold reality of life.)

He finds out which planet Leia has stationed herself on this time, and gets over there pronto.

The place is bustling. Leia has called in every favour she has, to send them all on the search for Ben. Most of them are people Wedge vaguely recognises from over the years, and they let him pass without question, directing him to Leia. She’s conversing with three people around a Star Map, but when she sees Wedge she dismisses them.

“Wedge,” she says, weariness in her tone. Wedge leans down to embrace her.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I would have come sooner, but our coms weren’t getting through. Is there anything I can do? How’s Luke?”

At that last statement Leia goes white, almost as pale as Wedge has ever seen her. “Luke is—” She hesitates over the words. “He’s gone, Wedge.”

.

This is hardly the first time that Luke has gone missing.

Wedge remembers Hoth too well.

There was the first time, when Luke had gone out in the desolate landscape to check out a meteor, and never made it back. When Han had gone out to look for him, and not returned either, and they’d had to close the shield doors without them. Wedge had been up most of the night, planning search patterns for the following morning with Leia and the rest of the Rogues. At first light he’d been standing in the hangar in his flightsuit, about to hop into one of the snowspeeders when Leia had placed a hand to his shoulder and gone: “You can’t. We need someone to command the Rogues. We can’t chance losing you too.”

Then there was the second time, when Luke had failed to show up at the rendezvous. Wedge hadn’t been paying attention as they’d fled Hoth – he’d been too busy ensuring Hobbie got the med-evac he needed – but there are a number who will swear they heard Luke say that he’d see them at the rendezvous. A number of others who saw the Millennium Falcon and Luke’s X-Wing clear Hoth’s atmosphere. Out in open space, command is certain that they would have the edge. So a rescue mission is not mounted (there is no time for one, not the personnel to spare. Wedge had had to satisfy himself with half thought out plans, ideas batted amongst the surviving Rogues.) In the end, Luke and Leia had made their way back to the Alliance with a tale and a half to tell, and even more left unsaid.

Wedge remembers going to Luke’s bedside, and sitting there. Luke had told him about Dagobah, and training, and returning to Bespin, but all Wedge heard was that Luke left of his own accord. ( _Desertion_ , his mind whispered. _He didn’t just leave you behind, he abandoned his post. A court-martialable offence._ ) There was something else too, that had unsettled him. Luke had been closed off.

He knows now that it was about Vader.

Years later, and it still hurts that Luke didn’t tell him. The pragmatic part of Wedge understands why, how difficult it must have been to come to terms with it. The other half of Wedge is selfish and wants to argue that he would have understood. (Only, on bad days, he remembers how angry he’d been at Luke, for leaving, and wonders whether he really would have.) After that, Luke had thrown all his focus into Jedi training and finding Han, and Wedge had found himself in charge of rebuilding the Rogues into a squadron that could once again strike fear into the heart of the Empire.

The war was more important. And Wedge had never found the right moment to go to Luke and say everything he wanted to.

( _I love you_ should have been the first words out his mouth. _I want to be with you_ should have followed them. _Luke_ he should have said, pushing every emotion he felt into it and hoping Luke knew.)

Wedge has spent twenty years of his life not going after Luke. He refuses to stay behind this time.

.

Leia is certain that Luke is alive, which is a good thing. “I’d know if he was gone,” she says, and Wedge believes her. He might not understand how the Force works, but he accepts that it does. Leia wouldn’t lie to him, not about something this important.

But somewhere in the chaos and the fallout, he’d vanished. Slipped away without anyone noticing. They’d been so focused on the desperate manhunt they have going for Ben, that Luke had ceased to be a concern.

Wedge didn’t spend five years fighting a war with these people to walk away not knowing them. He understands survivors’ guilt, understands the all-consuming quest for vengeance, the desperation that comes coupled with it. He can’t give Leia and Han back their son, can’t do anything more for them than what is already being done, but he can bring back their brother.

Leia is not the only one with friends, and Wedge is owed many debts over the years. It’s time to cash some of those in.

Three days later, he has a handful of leads on where Luke might have gone, a month’s leave in hand from Fleet Command, and an iron-clad determination: he will bring Luke back to them.

.

Wedge’s first stop is Tatooine; Luke’s home planet, where he’d spent the first nineteen years of his life.

He and Hobbie land their ships in the Mos Eisley Spaceport. The port staff seem concerned to see two Republic Navy personnel, but Wedge assures them they’re there on personal business only. Meanwhile, Hobbie takes a good gander at the walls. “So this is where Han and Luke got in their first firefight with Imperial troops, hey?”

“Supposedly,” Wedge comments. There are so many pot marks that litter the walls that it’s impossible to tell quite what happened here, other than that firefights seems to be an all too common occurrence.

After filling in the requisite paperwork – which feels bizarre, because Tatooine is still basically lawless – they leave the spaceport. At the edge of town, they rent a speeder and drive across the dune sea to where Jula Darklighter lives.

“Do you really think Luke would hide here?” Hobbie asks, sitting in the passenger seat. He’s let Wedge drive, in hopes it might appease some of Wedge’s nervous energy.

“Honestly?” Wedge says, with his eyes focused on the desert in front on him. “No. But it is Luke’s home. And Leia made a comment, off-hand, about stupid Jedi Masters and backwater planets.” He pauses a moment. “Obi-Wan Kenobi chose to hide here for nineteen years, after the first Jedi Temple Massacre. We need to cross it off the list.”

Hobbie bites back a comment about how, if they’re going to check every planet that Luke has some form of tie too, they’re going to be there an awfully long time.

Wedge can’t help but be thankful that they’re going to see Jula, Gavin’s father, instead of Huff. Not just because Huff Darklighter is difficult to deal with at the best of times, but because Wedge has never been able to face him without knowing that he got his son killed. No matter that Huff has never seen it that way – he blames the Imperial Agent he bribed to get Biggs a place at the Imperial Military Academy. Wedge has discarded much of the survivors guilt he’s carried like a mantle over the years, weighing around his shoulders, paid back his survival a dozen times over by the number of lives he’s saved, but he’s never stopped wondering if Biggs could have done more, in his place. No matter how many times they’ve looked over the gun camera footage, and known that there was nothing else to be done: if Wedge had stayed, he’d have been shot down as well.

The Darklighters maintain a small moisture farm a fair way out from Mos Eisley. Wedge knows that Gavin has offered to help them move off planet, if they so wish, but they’ve stayed. Tatooine is their home.

An elderly woman wanders out to greet them, having heard the sound of the speeder approaching. “Commander Antilles,” Silya Darklighter calls. “And Derek Klivian,” she adds, taking in the other pilot. “What brings you out to this desert? Come in, come in, get yourselves out this heat.”

There’s no arguing that it is hot out; the twin suns both high in the sky. Wedge and Hobbie are both glad to get indoors, and take the refreshments they’re offered. Gavin’s two youngest siblings are still on the farmstead, helping out, and Jula’s out checking one of the vaporators. Silya tells them he’ll be back soon, and they’re happy to wait.

He returns within the hour, and then he of course enquires after Gavin – who does call home, reasonably often, but they’re often in want of an objective opinion on just how much danger the man is putting himself in. He ceased to be Wedge’s responsibility years ago, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t check in on how the surviving Rogues and Wraiths are doing from time to time. After exchanging enough pleasantries, Jula Darklighter turns to Wedge and sighs. “You boys didn’t come here to make chit chat. What’s up?”

Wedge puts his glass of water down on the table. “Luke Skywalker’s vanished,” he says. “His sister says he’s alright, but we’d like to bring him back in. We were wondering if you’d heard anything about him being back on Tatooine?”

The Darklighters shake their heads, regretful. They haven’t seen any sign of Luke. However, Tatooine is a gaping empty expanse of a planet; it’s perfectly possible that he’s about and they haven’t seen him.

Jula draws them up a map, though Wedge knows mostly where he’s going. Biggs’ father makes them a map, when it’s clear that Wedge and Hobbie are going to go out and search, regardless of what he says to dissuade them. He marks the old Lars homestead on it – “There ain’t much there these days, the family that used it after the Larses moved on some years back, but it’ll make a half decent shelter” – and Old Ben’s place, also a ruin. It takes Wedge a moment to remember that Old Ben is Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight and General of the Clone Wars.

He and Hobbie thank them for their help, and set off for the Lars’ place.

.

“I remember that Biggs used to tell me about this kid he’d race through Beggars’ Canyon,” Hobbie says, as they fly the speeder through that very place. “And how he could beat any of the Imperial pilots, any day of the week. We used to think he was making it up. I mean, Biggs was a decent pilot, but there was no way that some kid from the back of beyond, from Tatooine, was that good.” Hobbie sighs. “And then Luke shows up and he’s even better than Biggs described.”

“I know,” Wedge says. “I was sat next to him when they briefed us on the Death Star mission. No one had found him a change of clothes yet, I don’t think anyone know what to do with him, but Leia told command to let him sit in. And we were told that we had to fly along a trench and fire proton torpedoes at an exhaust port. It seemed impossible. And then Luke just says that he used to shoot Womp Rats in his T-16 back home all the time, and it was totally doable.”

“… That’s what the whole Womp Rat thing was about?”

Wedge laughs. It had become common between the Rogues of old that whenever one of them made a difficult shot, he and Luke would joke about it being like ‘shooting womp rats’. Gavin Darklighter had had a field day when he’d found out, having been subject to much incredulity over the years whenever he’d attempted to compare their latest mission to some typical Tatooine pastime. “Yeah,” Wedge says, with a shrug. “I mean, he was right in the end. He made the shot. I never doubted him again.”

Hobbie nods. Wedge’s faith in Luke over the years has been near-unshakeable.

They come to the Lars’ homestead. It’s a hollowed out shell, even though it’s been lived in since it was first burnt down by Imperial Troops pursuing the Death Star plans what feels like a lifetime ago. Still, there’s little doubt that it isn’t currently livable. Luke could have spent a night here at best.=

It almost feels like an invasion to be here. The childhood home of the greatest hero in the galaxy, untouched for near twenty years. “I’m going to go round back,” Wedge tells Hobbie.

There are a number of graves, marked by stones, not far away. Wedge comes up on them. He knows who they are, even though they aren’t named. Luke had told him, about tending the graves with his aunt as a child. His grandfather, his grandmother. His grandfather’s first wife. Now there are two graves that lie beside the first three, tributes put up to Owen and Beru Lars.

“He’s been here,” Wedge says, when Hobbie comes round to find him.

“Are you sure?” Hobbie asks.

Wedge looks back at the graves, which are cleared of dust and weeds. They’ve been tended recently. There’s only one person who would have bothered. “Yes.”

.

There is even less for them at Ben Kenobi’s place. Wedge knows that Luke went back there, in search of answers. He’d found some journals, but little else of consequence.

Ultimately though, knowing that Luke visited Tatooine doesn’t help them. There’s no evidence that he came through any of the spaceports on planet, though Wedge knows that if Luke hadn’t wanted to leave a trace he wouldn’t have.

All it does is confirm Leia is right. Luke hasn’t been taken or captured. And whilst that is good news, it’s of limited comfort to Wedge, who just wants to affirm with his own two eyes that Luke really is alive.

“Where are you going next?” Hobbie asks, as they prepare to leave Mos Eisley. He has his own duties (to the fleet; to his wife and child) whilst Wedge has two more weeks of leave and is free to do as he wishes with it.

“Naboo,” Wedge says. If Luke came back to his father’s homeland, he might have gone to visit his mother’s as well.

“Good luck,” Hobbie says. He claps Wedge on the shoulder. “Look after yourself. If I hear anything, I’ll pass it along.”

“Thanks, Hobbie.”

.

On Naboo, Luke is similarly elusive.

Wedge receives a grand welcome from Queen Calania of Naboo, a nineteen year old girl in the second year of her first term. When Wedge explains why he’s there, she promises the full support of her security services if it will help find Luke.

The Naboo have always had a soft spot for the twins, after their mother’s heritage was uncovered. Leia had explained it once. The Naboo had adored Padmé Amidala with all of their hearts. They’d gone so far as to offer her the throne for life, and for it to pass to her descendants. She’d declined, but the Naboo still see her children as royalty.

There’s no visitor log on Padmé Amidala’s tomb: it’s completely open to the public. It survived twenty five years of the Empire unscathed, so although there are members of the Naboo Security Forces posted to it, it’s not secured. There’s a camera that watches the street outside, but it is possible to get in without being seen by it.

Wedge spends two days combing through the footage, looking for any trace of Luke. He almost misses him; it’s only for a second. There’s a single moment when the hood Luke is wearing slips and Wedge sees his face. “Luke,” he gasps. It’s been over a year since he last saw his friend’s face, and he has to clench his hand to his side, fighting the urge to reach out. Luke isn’t really there.

However, once again, having proof that Luke was here doesn’t help Wedge. He can date Luke’s presence on Naboo to eight days ago, which means he’s eight days behind. The Queen might have tightened Naboo border checks when Wedge told her of his suspicions, but it’s extremely unlikely that he’s still on planet.

“I’m sorry your search for your husband hasn’t been more successful, Commander Antilles,” Queen Calania says over dinner that evening.

Wedge means to say that she doesn’t need to apologise, it’s hardly her fault.

Then he plays back what she said, and his brain freezes.

He sputters. “He’s not— I’m not— We’re not—” He takes a deep breath. “We’re not married. He’s not my husband.”

 _Marriage._ What a concept.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. You don’t wear a wedding ring,” she notes, casting a gaze over Wedge’s hands. Wedge fights the urge to say that even if he and Luke were married, he probably wouldn’t wear a ring on his finger. It wouldn’t be practical. “Your… Lover? Partner?”

Wedge shakes his head. “No,” he says. The Queen seems to have grabbed completely the wrong end of the stick. “We’re not together.”

Calania cocks her head, looking at Wedge very strangely. “But you love him, correct?” She seems confused. The naivety of youth, Wedge supposes. He remembers being nineteen. Things were simpler then.

He considers lying to her. Telling her that he doesn’t. But Wedge isn’t going to fool himself: she’d see right through it. “It’s complicated,” Wedge says, which is as honest an answer as he can give.

“I’m sorry,” she says, seeming flustered. “Naboo Protocol has you listed as Luke Skywalker’s partner, and I assumed that in the intermediary years, you would have formalised your relationship. I will have it changed immediately.”

Where anyone got that idea is beyond Wedge. He and Luke haven’t even spent much time on Naboo. There was a week, not long after Naboo was liberated, he supposes. He and Luke had been part of the force temporarily stationed on planet. It had been during a time when Wedge had been hopeful that there might be a chance for them, even after everything.

It had come to nothing, and it’s sort of disturbing that whatever Naboo personnel they were stationed with picked up on what is still a fairly guarded secret: that there was something between them at all.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, waving her off. _It isn’t_ , he repeats to himself, even as he struggles to get the remembrance of Luke’s smile – the way he’d looked at Leia, sometimes, like she was home – and what it would have meant to have that smile aimed at him out of his head.

Queen Calania looks like she has her doubts, but she doesn’t say anything.

.

The next morning, Wedge makes preparations to leave. Wherever Luke is now, it isn’t here, so there’s little point in staying.

The Queen is in the throne room in full regalia, a handful of handmaidens behind her when Wedge goes to say his goodbyes. He instantly feels under-dressed; in spacers’ regulars with a regulation flight jacket tossed over them. Calania doesn’t seem to care, though one of her advisers scrunches their nose at him.

“Commander Antilles,” Calania greets him warmly. Wedge dips his head in a bow. “I know you wish to be on your way, but I was hoping that you might have time to speak to some students in the city. There are many who wish to apply to the Republic Naval Academy, and they would greatly benefit from meeting you.”

It’s the least he can do for the hospitality she offered, so Wedge tells her yes.

Wedge once again wishes he was in uniform, as she presents him to a large group of cadets. Their excitement, already high because the Queen is visiting, sky rockets when they realise who he is. The man who destroyed not one but two death stars. The conversation quickly turns to trench runs and the mechanics of taking down a giant super weapon, though Wedge attempts to turn it back to things that will actually be relevant to a new naval cadet.

(He understands why the Death Stars have stuck in the public consciousness, but there are days when he wishes that he could forget that he ever flew against them.)

His attention is distracted by a young bronze-skinned girl pushing her way to the front. “Did you know Shara Bey?” she asks, in a rather demanding tone.

“Karé,” the Queen admonishes. On their way down to the academy, one of the handmaidens had told Wedge that the Palace sponsors a number of cadets, and that the Queen takes a personal interest in their wellbeing. This must be one of them. The girl looks a little ashamed, but stands her ground.

“It’s okay,” Wedge says to Calania. “I did,” he tells Karé. They’d never been close, but she had taken pity on him one time when he’d been put on medical leave, and taken him to her father’s for a week. He’d met her infant son, and witnessed the strength of the community she’d grown up in. He wishes he could have flown more with her, but they weren’t often stationed on the same base. Some years back, when Wedge had attended her funeral, it was clear that she was the shining light at the centre of everyone around hers lives. “Why do you ask?”

“Can you tell us about her?” Karé asks.

Confusion must spread over Wedge’s face, because Calania takes him by the arm and mutters: “She was the saviour of Naboo. She was a hero to many of us, growing up, but we don’t know very much about her.”

Suddenly, he understands. There isn’t a lot he can tell them. He only remembers the barest details of her service record (the Bronze Nova for gallantry after the Liberation of Gorma, her certifying as a triple ace) but he can see that the details of who she was are more important to these kids than that. He tells them of her smile, of the way she laughed and joked with everyone, the baby pictures she’d thrust under everyone’s faces. She’d gone everywhere with a holo recorder, he recalls, serving as the unofficial documenter of the Alliance.

It’s not much (it’s more than he was able to summon up at her funeral, where he’d stood with the rest of Rogue Squadron and tried to find the words) but hopefully it’ll be enough.

After he’s done dispensing tales of Starfighter battles, and shaken the hands of half the cadets in the place, Queen Calania takes him back to Theed spaceport, where his X-Wing awaits.

“Thank you,” he says to Calania. “For all your help and hospitality. It’s much appreciated.”

“It has been my pleasure, Commander Antilles,” the Queen replies. “I wish you good luck and safe travels amongst the stars.”

Wedge smiles: the phrase originated on Corellia, and he’s a little surprised that she knows it. “I wish you good fortune and prosperous life upon the earth,” he says, inclining his head.

She and her retinue stand to watch as he leaves. Soaring above the city of Theed, Wedge is sad to see the back of the city. He expects that, wherever his search takes him next, it will not offer him the hospitality he has been granted here.

.

He’s not wrong.

Wedge has never quite understood what it is about the Jedi and having most of their sacred sites in the middle of bloody nowhere (with the exception of the temple on Coruscant, but there are days when Wedge suspects that was political necessity, not choice.) But as he thinks about where Luke might have gone, he realises that it’s highly possible that Luke has gone in search of all those Jedi relics and temples he never managed to find. And if that’s his goal, it’s likely that his first stops will be the temples he does know about. Wedge knows about most of them, the ones that Luke reported to the New Republic.

(He also knows that there are probably some he kept secret, but he can’t think about those now. He has to follow the leads he actually has.)

There’s the Temple of Ilum, where Jedi younglings used to quest for crystals for their lightsabers. Luke’s been here a number of times over the years, seeking kyber crystals for himself and for his students. But the place is inhospitable, since the Jedi who used to mind it were killed. Part of the grand hall that used to lead to the caves has collapsed under the weight of the ice. As Wedge walks around, looking for footprints in the snow, he knows that Luke wouldn’t have fled here.

There’s the Temple on Vrogas Vas, which Luke found when he was flying with Red Squadron not long after the Battle of Yavin. It was a ruin then, and hasn’t improved since. Wedge stands amongst the wreckage of the giant statues and wonders if Luke has been here recently, if he has stepped through the ruins as Wedge does now.

There’s the Temple of Eedit, on Devaron, where Luke had completed parts of his training. Wedge hopes to find him in the old Republic outpost, but he has no such luck. The corridors are as empty as they have ever been.

There’s the shrine at Felucia, where there were always rumours that Jedi survived in the jungle. They’ve never been able to discern any truth to the tales – if there ever were Jedi, they were gone long before the Alliance found its footing. No trace remains of them now. They slipped into the aether, like so many others.

And then there’s the Temple on Lothal.

The only thing they’ve ever managed to surmise about the Lothal temple is that it’s ancient. It took Luke a few weeks to work out how to get into it, and he’d had to call Leia out – the temple took two to open. Once inside, they’d only found bodies and an ill feeling. If there was anything more to it, Wedge has never been told.

But, he knows over the years, there will have been many secrets that he hasn’t been party to. So he stands in front of the spires and has no idea whether Luke has visited or not.

Thankfully, Lothal is populated, and they’re willing to talk. Wedge asks around, searching for sightings of anyone who meets Luke’s description.

“It was definitely him,” one shopkeeper insists, as Wedge gets some supplies. “He was a little older, a little more worn, but we remember the first time he came to Lothal, don’t we Mavee?”

His wife smiles besides him. “Yes. Oh what a time that was; the last Jedi coming to Lothal, thinking we had something of value.” She packages fruit into a bag for Wedge. “Of course, that wasn’t the first time we’d had Jedi on Lothal.”

“Yeah,” the shopkeeper agrees. “Back when the Empire was still strong, we had one. Odd fellow, with a ponytail, usually in the company of a Lasat and a girl in Mandalorian armour.”

“And the Bridger kid,” his wife adds.

“When did you see Luke?” Wedge asks, as he takes the bag.

“Oh, it can’t have been more that a couple of days ago,” she says.

“At least five,” her husband says.

He’s still behind, but he’s closer than he was on Naboo. Wedge will take it. He hands over the credits he owes them. “Thanks for your help.”

.

However, Wedge is now out of leave. Overdue, actually. So he returns, reluctantly, to the nearest Fleet outpost, not far from Lothal.

A familiar face greets him in the hangar. “Wes,” he says, jumping down from his ship. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t come to see how my favourite commander is?” Wes jokes, throwing an arm around Wedge’s shoulders.

“No,” Wedge responds. In all his years, he’s never known Wes to turn up without an agenda, even if that agenda is only to pull a very horrible prank on someone.

“I’m hurt,” Wes responds. “Anyway, I heard rumour that you were on Lothal, and knew your leave was up, and you’d come back here, so I thought I’d come say hi.” That’s not really anymore explanation than Wedge previously had. “Any sign of the Commander?”

Wedge sighs. “Not really. I know he’s not just completely vanished into oblivion; he’s on security footage on Naboo, there’s a couple who are sure they saw him on Lothal, and I know he was on Tatooine. I just haven’t managed to catch up with him yet.”

“Man, it’s like Hoth all over again.” Wes says it in his usual flippant tone, but Wedge can’t quite hide the grimace it conjures. All the longing and worry and anger he felt back then has come back, but this time he doesn’t have a right to feel any of it. Luckily, Wes doesn’t notice. “What are you going to do now?”

Wedge sighs. “Keep looking.”

.

That’s easier said that done.

His leave is up but Wedge has never let something as stupid as that stop him. He finds the most senior member of command staff on the outpost – Major Criesce Jauke, who Wedge outranks – and asks them for more leave. Jauke flails and calls Fleet Headquarters, where Wedge ends up arguing with them until he walks away with permission for an extended leave of absence from the service.

He knows that if he ever wanted a promotion, he just ended his chances of one. Luckily, he never has.

Wes is waiting outside for him, as he storms out of Jauke’s office. He likely overheard some of the argument, and had probably predicted half of it anyway. “Where to next, Commander?”

“Mandalore,” Wedge replies. “Fancy coming with?”

.

If Luke was on Lothal, then Wedge was probably right that he is looking for something. But he couldn’t have got into the temple there, not on his own, and Luke has no particular connection to Lothal that Wedge knows of.

But there’s someone who does. Someone who Luke’s always been eager to find, someone who could tell him tales about the great days of the Jedi, about his father, and possibly lead him to previously unknown relics. A woman known as Ahsoka Tano.

She’d been friendly with the Lothal Rebels.

They’d been a group who were brought into a fledgling Rebel Alliance a little under five years before the Battle of Yavin. One of the first real threats to the Empire: Captain Syndulla and her crew of misfits. They’d worked with Commander Sato and Phoenix Squadron, wrought destruction on the Empire, tested the B-Wing bomber, found a new Rebel base for the Alliance while it was still in it’s infancy.

They’d saved Wedge’s life a couple of times, and he’d risked his for theirs.

Then they’d all vanished, just as the war was really getting started.

Everyone had thought them dead. It had seemed inconceivable that they’d have dropped of the face of the Galaxy for any lesser reason. That was, until the battle of Endor, and rumour spread of the Emperor’s defeat. Sabine Wren and Garazeb Orrelios had finally stepped from the shadows, with a tale of grief and woe. Hera, Kanan, Ezra: all fallen before the might of the Dark Side.

Wedge remembers seeing them both, shell-shocked in the hangar bay on Home One. The years wore heavy on their shoulders. And almost everyone they’d known in the Alliance was dead. Zeb, once he had told his part of the tale, had returned to Lira San to aid in the ongoing rebuilding of the Lasat, but Sabine Wren had stayed.

Until the Military Disarmament Act was passed, when she took retirement and moved to Mandalore, where she remains to this day.

Sabine Wren – by virtue of having known three Jedi, of knowing the original Fulcrum, of knowing just how one remains hidden in a Galaxy where everyone is looking for you – has just become his best hope of finding Luke.

.

“Are we there yet?” Wes asks, as they trek up a mountain to Sabine Wren’s remote cabin. He’s puffing, slightly out of breath from the stiff walk. They’d thought about hiring a speeder, but the Mandalorians are not keen on lending anything to two Republic Navy officers. Thinking about it, they’d decided it would be best to just walk.

“Stop moaning, keep walking. You like Wren, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Wes says, taking in the pointed look Wedge shoots at him, “But I still don’t understand why she lives all the way out here! What happened to civilisation?”

“I think if you were on the run from the Empire for six years, largely on your own, you’d be a little paranoid too, Wes.” There have also been multiple threats on her life over the years. Her mother’s association with Death Watch, her own claim to the Mandalorian warrior legacy, and her acceptance of the pacifist ruling government had made her an attractive target for anyone dissatisfied. She’d stuck it out, and thwarted every one.

When they reach the house, they get a first hand demonstration of Wren’s paranoia, in the form of a blaster that is pointed at their heads. For one awful moment, Wedge genuinely thinks she might shoot them. But then Sabine lowers the weapon, and sighs. “Antilles, Janson. Come in.”

“Hey Wren.” Wes greets her with a blinding smile. “How have you been?”

“Good,” she replies, tucking her weapon back into her belt. “Why are you here?”

Still standing in the doorway, Wedge cuts straight to the point. “Skywalker’s gone missing.”

“Not my problem,” Wren replies, with the exhaustion of a woman who has done her fair share of cleaning up Jedi messes.

“I know it’s not. But if one wanted to consult an expert on how to drop off the face of the Galaxy, someone who evaded the Empire and the Alliance for six years would be the person to talk to,” Wedge says. “We’ll do the hard work tracking him down, but if you have any advice on where he might be hiding, it would be much appreciated. Also—” he hesitates for a moment, knowing that this is an awkward subject. “I have my suspicions that he might have gone in search of Fulcrum.”

“Ahsoka?” Wedge nods. Sabine scowls. “We’ve been over this. I haven’t heard from her since Malachor. Unlike you – you’re the last person on record to see her alive.”

That’s true. Wedge had joined the Alliance just as the Fulcrum problem was exploding. He hadn’t known it at the time, but the Rebel Agent he knew as Fulcrum wasn’t the only one. There were dozens broadcasting to the Alliance using that code-name, part of Tano’s fullback plan. After he broke his leg in three places at a Fulcrum’s urging, and been resigned to running freight, he’d been given a briefing in which he’d been asked to look out for a number of Alliance persons of interest. Ahsoka Tano had been one of them.

And he’d found her, in a spaceport in the outer rim. She’d been wearing a cloak, and using a vocoder – but both of those things had been part of her MO. Wedge had been intrigued enough to watch. It was pure luck, but an explosion had rocked the other side of the city, and everyone had turned to look. The cloak had fallen off her head, revealing the blue and white montrals. And it was enough of a rarity to see Togruta off-world that Wedge had been almost certain, so he’d called her name, and she’d looked at him, and he’d known that he was right.

She’d fled, and Wedge hadn’t caught her, and he knew that he’d never best her in a fight. If she wanted to come in, she’d have come in. So he’d gone back to the Alliance with his tale, and been pulled in front of High Command and recanted every second he could remember of the encounter. Although Wedge had sensed some disagreement amongst them, it had been agreed that they thought the encounter was genuine. Ahsoka Tano had been taken off the missing-presumed-dead list, and placed on the missing list.

There hasn’t been a verified sighting of her since. A couple of rumours that are more credible than others – on Onderon they talk of a mysterious warrior coming to their aid – but nothing conclusive. Ahsoka Tano had vanished off the face of the galaxy, for no discernible reason.

“You think I don’t know that?” Wedge answers. “There was nothing I could have done.”

“You should have done something!” Sabine glares back, temper close to exploding. “Think of all the people we could have saved if she’s been with us.”

Wedge opens his mouth to blast a retort – of course he’s thought about all those lives that could have been saved, they’ve weighed heavy on his conscience all these years – but Wes steps between Wedge and Sabine, putting his hands up. “Let’s stay calm, people.” Both of them glare at him. “Sabine, all we want is to find Luke. Any help you can give us would be appreciated.”

Sabine steps back, giving herself some space. “I don’t have anything on Ahsoka. I’ve been down that road before, I can’t do it again.” Wedge nods in acceptance. He can’t make Sabine do anything she doesn’t want to, least of all something that would be that painful. “But I can give you some advice on where I’d hide.”

“That’s all we’re asking,” Wedge says.

.

Here’s the thing about Sabine Wren that history has forgotten: she’s a genius.

Between her involvement with the Lothal Rebels, her propensity for violent explosions, a passion for art and then disappearing for the six most important years of the war, people forgot that she’d been the most promising Imperial Cadet on Mandalore.

However, watching her stand in front of a holomap, it’s impossible to not remember. “AP-5, can you analyse the traffic patterns out of the Breshva System?” Sabine asks, while simultaneously sorting through the hyperlanes linking six major systems. The Imperial Protocol droid she owns begins flicking through data. Sabine is completely absorbed, and it’s all Wedge and Wes can do to watch.

“You think she’ll find the Commander?” Wes says, as he looks in awe at Sabine.

“I don’t know,” Wedge says. “But I think she’ll give us something to go on, and that’s enough.”

Sabine’s search is clearly detailed. It takes time. Wes eventually tears his eyes off her, and goes to investigate a stack of her paintings instead. Wedge stays close; he wants to be able to answer any questions she might have.

“Do you think he could survive on his own, without supply drops?” she asks.

“I think so,” Wedge says. “They were working at being self sufficient at the Temple. He was raised out on Tatooine. His parents were moisture farmers.”

“Eh.” Sabine bites her lip, squinting at the data in front of her. “That makes things more complicated. If I were him, I’d find an uncharted planet and hole up there. Unless he is looking for Ahsoka and that blasted Jedi Temple, and that amounts to the same thing in the end. If they were on a star chart, we’d have found them. It’s what Zeb and I would have done,” she explains, as Wedge looks a little baffled, “only we didn’t have the ability to be self-sufficient. We made do by keeping very low profiles on backwater planets and escaping to Lira San for a time, which was uncharted so it basically was the same trick.” She sighs, and looks at Wedge. “If he’s done that, you’ll never find him.”

“He’d have to find an uncharted planet first,” Wedge says.

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Sabine replies. “Especially as we’ve established he’s probably looking for one.”

“Yeah,” Wes agrees, looking up. “We’ve found half a dozen over the years. And the Commander’s spent more time in uncharted space than we have.”

Wedge grimaces. Because Sabine is right; if he’s gone somewhere uncharted, then searching is pointless. They’d only find him by chance. And he doesn’t want it to come down to that. “Let’s hope he hasn’t done that. Have you got something for us?”

She nods, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she taps out a couple more things. “Here,” she says, pulling a datachip out of her data-pad and placing it in Wedge’s hand. “There’s a list of planets that would make good hiding places, and analysis on what hyperlanes he might take to get out there. But you know how he flies better than I do. I’ve made some notes about the way I’d go these days, and I’ve tried to think about what Kanan or Ahsoka might have done. But it’s all conjecture. I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Thank you, Sabine,” Wedge says, closing his hand over the chip.

She looks at him and for a moment, Wedge knows that she understands his pain. Of having your best friend, the person you love, suddenly walk out your life, and knowing that you might never get them back. “No problem,” she says. She turns, looking out the wide transparisteel windows, to the Mandalorian sunset. “It’s late. You guys are welcome to stay the night, if you want.”

Wedge looks to Wes, who is clearly contemplating murdering Wedge if he suggests that they leave and trek their way back to civilisation in the dark. “We’d appreciate it.”

.

In the interests of not overstaying their welcome with a woman who keeps her house as well stocked with explosives as most Republic Navy bases, Wedge and Wes are up bright and early. Sabine waves them off, clutching a cup of caf in hand, looking half asleep still. Wes is also not very awake, but the bracing walk back will probably put a spring in his step before too long.

(Wedge is fairly certain that Wes spent last night in Wren’s bed, though he’s never been tremendously sure whether that relationship is romantic or not. He doesn’t think so: Sabine’s relationships are usually with women, as far as he is aware, but on the other hand, he doesn’t actually want to spend a tremendous amount of time examining it.)

After a couple of hours scrabbling over rocks and down mountainsides, they get close enough to the city to be picked up by a transport shuttle. From there, they find it easy enough to find a dark corner of a bar and start planning a course of action.

Wedge is grateful for a misspent youth and a lifetime spent staring out at the stars. Most of the planets Sabine’s listed he’d vaguely familiar with. A lot of them are old smuggling hubs, places where people mind their own business, and you can get anything for a price. Some are old refuges or colony worlds, abandoned after years of war and devastation. There are hundreds of them and Luke could be on any one of them.

“I want to investigate the planets off the Corellian Run,” Wedge says, pulling them out of the data. He was familiar with the route, had flown it a dozen times as a kid working for Booster Terrik. He’d told Luke about some of the adventures he’d had along the way. There’s a fair chance that Luke might have remembered some of them.

“You, amongst a bunch of low-lifes and smugglers? Kriff, _Luke_ among a bunch of low-lifes and smugglers?” Wes raises an eyebrow. “That’s a recipe for disaster, boss.”

“Luke’s perfectly capable of handing himself. As am I,” Wedge says. “I grew up on that trade route, pretty much. And Booster’s name still petrifies most low-lifes and thugs, don’t forget that.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed,” Wes says, in mock-seriousness. “What about me? I reckon I can get some of the others involved too. You’re not in this alone, Wedge.”

“I know,” Wedge says. “I think half our crew are already working with Leia, but anyone else you can grab would be appreciated.” Wedge knows that Tycho’s joined Leia’s private manhunt, as has Gavin Darklighter. He’s not sure about some of the others, but he knows that if he or Wes asks, they’ll do this for them. “You’ll want to cross-check this list with Leia and Han. If they’re searching any of these places, they might as well be looking for Luke as well. Get intelligence on it; Winter and Iella might have different perspectives than Sabine. Ask Lin, too, if there’s anything she ever found in the Imperial Archives that might help. Otherwise, it’s just all hands on deck for this wild bantha chase.”

“Come on boss, it’s not that bad yet.”

Wedge sighs. “Maybe.” He pushes a list over to Wes. “Here. That’s the planet list if he went up the Hydian Way. I’d focus your efforts there.”

“Course.” Wes takes it. “You know we’re going to find him, Wedge,” he says, suddenly serious. “We’re going to bring him home.”

Wedge doesn’t know if they can. All he can do is hope.

.

There’s one thing Wedge has to do before the search can begin in earnest, and that’s ditch his X-Wing.

He loves his ship: it’s been with him a long time. There’s talk of phasing out the older models entirely, replacing them with new variants from Incom, but Wedge is quite happy with the ship he’s flown over the last ten years. However, he admits that it’s not the most inconspicuous thing in the world.

(Apart from it obviously belonging to a member of the Republic Navy, it has his Death Star kills painted on the side. There’s only one pilot in the Galaxy entitled to claim both those marks, and it identifies him immediately.)

He leaves it at a Republic Outpost, with Wes promising that he’ll see it back safely. Takes a shuttle off planet and purchases an old freighter, battered enough that it won’t stand out in the Outer Rim. The Corellian in him grimaces at the shoddy workmanship, but it’ll do. There’s sleeping quarters, and a hold big enough to make someone believe he could legitimately carry trade.

Besides, if it brings him to Luke, Wedge couldn’t care less.

.

Wedge has landed on twenty-one planets so far and there has not been a single sign of Luke. The others don’t seem to be having any luck, either.

“Luke,” Wedge says, looking at the sky from the top of the ice mountains on Falleen. “I don’t know where you are, but could you please come back to us now?”

He says it and knows that it’s hopeless. Luke can’t hear him, and even if he could, Wedge doubts that his words would be enough.

He remembers being young, of being with the Alliance and looking at the man – who was barely more than a boy – in front of him, the realisation that Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa were the hope and shining lights of their new generation. That if anyone was going to beat back the Empire, it would be them. Of flying beside Luke, in perfect formation, anticipating each others every move. Realising that this was as close to peace as he’d felt since he was very small, at his father’s knee.

Wedge had looked at Luke and realised he was falling a little more in love with this Tatooine farmboy, with this Rebel fighter, day by day, and thought nothing of it, because after the events of the Death Star, half the base was in love with Luke or Han or Leia (or all three.) Wedge had never thought he’d stand a chance, not when the three of them were so wrapped up in each other. They’d become good friends, and that was enough – Wedge wasn’t exactly looking for a lover in the middle of a war, knowing the grief it could cause him.

And then one day they’d been rough-housing in the barracks. Wedge can’t even remember why, looking back – it must have been something insignificant, because he remembers laughing as he’d tackled Luke into submission on his bunk. Ultimately, Luke had pinned him to the bed, and Wedge remembers staring up into blue eyes, sparkling with light, and knowing that he was completely gone on Luke. Luke had smiled, then blushed when he’d realised he was straddling his friend. Wedge had rushed into awkward excuses (he’s fairly certain he’d said “I don’t mind” somewhere in the flood of words that escaped his mouth) and Luke had laughed and Wedge had though, _that’s it, it’s never going to be the same again,_ and then Luke had lent down to kiss him.

In a way, Wedge was right. Things never were quite the same again.

They never really talked about it. Plenty of members of the Rebel Alliance fell into bed together; they were young, could have died at any moment, and hormones ran high kept in the close confines of military bases. They were just two among that number. They cared for each other; marked their love into the other’s skin, but at the end of the day they were the ranking officers of their Squadron. One day, one of them would be in the line of fire, and the other would have to issue an order that could result in their death, and their love would burn up in the flaming wreckage of an X-Wing.

Wedge had already beaten the odds too many times. He knew that sooner or later, his time would be up, and he was powerless to stop it, but he couldn’t stop playing a game with fate: _I haven’t said all I want to say to him_ , he’d tell the universe, before a mission, _so you better make sure I’d get back so I can._

“We need you,” he says, to the air. His breath is visible, dragging out in wisps across the landscape. “I need you,” he admits. “Don’t make me beg, Luke. Just come back.”

But there is no answer, and no sign of Luke. And eventually, Wedge will have to admit that as every day goes by, his chances of finding Luke get slimmer. For now, he gets back into his ship and keeps searching. The Galaxy is vast, and there are lots of places he hasn’t looked yet.

.

In a Spaceport in the Far Western Reaches (eighteen planets after Falleen), Wedge probably should be less surprised to see the Millennium Falcon than he is. After all, he’s well aware that while he’s been busy scouring the universe for Luke, Han’s been on a quest of his own to find his son.

Wedge hopes they’ve had more success than him, but Han’s presence here isn’t indicative of a man who’s found what he’s looking for.

The gangway is down; it’s getting late, and the spaceport is bustling with people hoping to make departures before darkness truly sets in (not that that will stop the most determined of them). Wedge steps up to into the familiar corridors, looking for any sign of Han or Chewie. He finds Han deep in the Falcon’s belly, fixing something which has undoubtedly gone wrong again.

“Hey Han,” Wedge says, perching down aside the opening.

Han looks up and promptly whacks his head on some pipework. He curses, scrabbling for a moment before finally focusing on the person in front of him. “Wedge,” he says, with half a grimace. “Nice beard.”

Wedge rubs his chin self-consciously. Han says it in a tone where Wedge – even after all these years – can’t quite tell if it’s mocking or not. “Haven’t had time to shave,” Wedge shrugs. It’s true. He hasn’t been particularly fussed with keeping up appearances, and besides; there’s no harm in making himself less recognisable.

Han pulls himself out of the crevice, and looks seriously for once. “The search for Luke not going well, then?”

“No,” Wedge says. Apart from the early sightings, no one’s seen head or tail of him. “I take it the search for Ben is going equally badly.”

Han makes a non-committal noise. “I dunno, how many planets have you been chased off under fire?”

“Four,” Wedge says. It’s been a bad month.

“Damn.” Han looks at him. “Guess you’re more committed to this than I thought.” He stands, offers a hand to help Wedge up. “Come on, let’s go and have a drink. I trust you can spare one night.”

“I might be able to stretch to it,” Wedge replies. “Where’s Chewie?”

He asks because he’s still not seen (or heard) a peep out of the Wookie who is usually not five metres from Han’s side. “Out,” Han says. “Meeting some contact I’m not allowed to know about.” Wedge raises an eyebrow, but Han waves it off. “He’s entitled to his secrets. As long as we get the info, I don’t care how we get it. Now—” Han roots around the galley, triumphantly pulling a bottle out of the back of the cupboard. “I know we’re a long way from home, but that’s no reason for not drinking like a pair of old Corellian boys.”

He puts the bottle of Whyren’s Reserve on the table, then goes to find a couple of glasses. Wedge stifles a laugh. He and Han might both be Corellian born and raised, but they both left in their teens, and have never really been back. Even so, both of them will stubbornly cling to their roots when they want too: mainly in matters of smuggling, flying and drinking.

Glasses clink and one is placed in front of Wedge, a couple of fingers of a amber coloured liquid inside. “To finding those we’ve lost,” Han says, raising his glass.

“To finding those we’ve lost,” Wedge says, copying Han’s motion, before downing the liquid in the glass in one gulp. It burns, but in a steady familiar way; more the comfort of a hearthside fire than the pain of fire on one’s skin. He slams the glass on the table, summoning up a grin.

“Start as you mean to go on, eh?” Han says, pouring another glass.

They drink together, in companionship. Sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about the search; the planets they’ve been too, what they haven’t found. It’s nice, to be able to talk to someone who gets it, the pain and futility of searching for someone who doesn’t want to be found. Only Han is doing a father’s duty in looking for his son, and Wedge is…

Wedge is chasing after a lover who he lost any rights to be concerned about fifteen years back.

When most of the bottle is gone, he says, in a quiet voice: “What did you mean, when you said I was more committed to this than you thought? When have I ever given you reason to think that I wouldn’t commit to it?”

Han looks unsettled, but probably more by the desperate tone Wedge uses rather than the contents of his words. “Oh sithspit, Wedge, I didn’t mean it like that.” He pushes his hair back from his face, revealing the silver that’s streaked at his temples, and leans back in his chair. “It’s just…” He searches for the right words; Han has never been good at this. “Well, you can’t blame a guy. You’ve been wrapped up in your work with the Navy, you’ve barely seen Luke over the past couple of years – you’ve always been this consummate soldier. Didn’t think this would be the thing you lost your shit over.”

Wedge can think of plenty of members of command who would disagree with the consummate soldier part. But, compared to Han, or Luke, he’s certainly chosen duty over love more times than he perhaps should have. “He’s my best friend,” Wedge says. “I’m not leaving him out there alone. Not this time.”

Han is silent, studying Wedge. Then his eyes widen, as if the final piece of the puzzle has just clicked into place. “You’re in love with him.”

Wedge ducks his head, fighting the rising blush on his cheeks. In fairness, it’s probably aided by the amount of alcohol he’s drunk that evening. “Yes,” he says, deciding that there’s no point in lying to Han, though the stitching on his trouser-leg’s seam suddenly becomes very interesting. “Always have been, I guess.”

“Hey wait—” Han says, and Wedge looks up with a start. “There was that Naval Engineer, and the politician’s aide, and the former Imperial weapons scientist, and weren’t you pretty serious with the lady from CorSec for a time?”

Wedge buries his head into his arms on the table, trying to make himself as small as possible. He doesn’t really need Han deconstructing the fact that his love-life, even setting aside Luke, has been a bit of a dismal state of affairs. “There’s a reason it didn’t work out,” he says. There’s a reason Han doesn’t seem to be able to remember their names.

He’d wanted to love them; he’d always known that his life would be easier if he moved on, if he left his feelings for Luke in the naivety of youth, but he’s never quite been able to. They’d known it. He’d known it. And eventually, it got too much for everyone involved.

“That’s rough, man.” Han holds up his glass again. “To those we love. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Both men down their glasses, and Wedge tries not to think too hard about what will happen if he doesn’t find Luke.

.

Wedge wakes up the next morning in the Millennium Falcon’s general quarters, on a cold bench with a blanket thrown roughly over him. He sits up, then regrets it. His head is rather woozy, in a way it hasn’t been in years (he doesn’t drink much; has learnt long ago that if he drowns his sorrows that way he’ll never stop, and it’s not like he has much to celebrate.) There’s a glass of water on the table across from him.

Given that Han was in as much of a state as he was in last night, and isn’t known for being an early riser, Chewie must be back.

He stumbles into the galley to find that Han, for once, has beaten him to it; there’s fresh plates of food and Chewie in the corner. “You survived then?” Han says, with a chuckle, pushing a plate in front of Wedge.

“Just a bit out of practice,” Wedge says, digging in. “Hey Chewie,” he says belatedly, giving a wave to Han’s wookie co-pilot. “How’s it going?”

Chewie roars in reply. Wedge’s shyriwook has never been good, and it’s a little rusty, but he understands the basics. Chewie then asks after Luke.

“I’m still looking,” Wedge says. He’s always like the name-sign Chewie picked for Luke; one who walks between sand and sky. There’s an honest truth to it, but a beauty too. “I could do with some more leads. I was thinking of going to talk to Maz Kanata, see if she’s heard anything.”

“Don’t bother,” Han says. “We spoke to her last week. Well, Chewie did,” Han amends after Chewie growls a disagreement. “If she’s heard anything, she’s keeping it well to herself, though I’m inclined to believe that she doesn’t know anything. She and Luke don’t get on, you know that.”

“I know,” Wedge sighs. “She doesn’t like me either.”

“Well, that’s a dead end.” Han considers Wedge for a moment. “You’ve still got leads to chase, though?”

In all honesty, Wedge is rapidly running out of them. Each planet he searches is less and less likely to yield answers. He and Wes and the rest of the Rogues are exhausting possibilities. He’s been racking his brain for old smuggling routes that he might have told Luke about, or other planets that Jedi fled to after Order 66. But he doesn’t tell Han any of this. Just grits his teeth and lies. “Of course.”

.

On Vohal, Wedge is accosted in a case of mistaken identity that makes him lose three days.

As he gets further and further away from Republic territory, he’s gotten used to things being rough. Being shot at is par for the course; his Corellian accent is distinctive, and he’s never had Han’s charm to be able to talk himself out of a bad situation. Years in the Navy have made him wary, but it’s a different sort of wariness to what he cultivated as a teen. He’s too used to having a wingman watching his back.

But he picks himself up and flies on, because what else can he do?

The stars are the one constant, these days. The view is different to the one he craned his neck to see as a child, but they are the same stars, just in a different configuration. As long as there are stars in the sky, a Corellian will always find their way home; that’s the way the tale goes.

(It neglects to mention why any child of Corellia, once they made their way out to the stars, would ever want to come home. Wedge knows there must be a reason, but he can’t think of it.)

He lands on a barely inhabited moon and attempts to spot Corellia in the sky. He can’t find it. He’s too far away. The binary stars that Tatooine circles are visible, though, as is Naboo’s shining core star.

It’s pointless looking for home anyway. He’s not going to find it.

Home is Luke, and Luke has vanished, and Wedge is never going to find him.

.

The sight of a New Republic X-Wing should be like a breath of fresh air to Wedge; reassuring and comfort and home. However, in the depths of barely-charted space, it’s a distinct oddity, and one that Wedge is not especially pleased about.

He momentarily debates turning around, flying straight back out of the place and not having to deal with whoever is on that ship, but he can’t. He’s low on fuel, on supplies, and while he could technically get to the next port on what he has, it would be risky. If anything went wrong, he’d be dead in space. So he brings his ship down and parks it beside the X-Wing – one of the new T-80s, fresh off the production line – and prepares to face the music.

As the gangway lowers, Wedge wonders who Naval Command would have possibly sent after him. There’s a moment where he thinks that maybe they aren’t here for him, that Wedge has just grabbed the wrong end of the stick.

Then he sees a tall man and blond hair and knows that it’s none of those things. “You look like shit, man,” Tycho Celchu says, standing there in civvies.

Wedge doesn’t argue the point. He hasn’t looked in the mirror lately, but he knows that his cheeks are gaunt; the beard still unfamiliar and uncomfortable; that there’s more grey strands in his hair than there were six months ago. “Tycho,” he says, weary but also happy to see his best friend. “What are you doing out here?”

“You really need to learn to answer your comm,” Tycho says. In Wedge’s defence, the thing’s been intermittent since it got shot with an electropulse a couple of weeks back. He hasn’t got round to fixing it yet. “We were getting worried,” he adds.

Wedge means to reply that there was no need to be: he would come back as soon as he had news to report, as soon as he found Luke. But he looks at Tycho and sees that there is very real fear in his eyes. His friend was genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry,” Wedge says, standing awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to be gone this long, just Luke making things difficult, but I’m going to find him.” Tycho looks pained. “What is it?” Wedge asks, a note of hysteria entering his voice. “Do you know where he is? Has something happened to him?”

He’s shaking, he realises, and the desperate fear that he’s kept safely curled up deep inside of him unfurls, sending ice through his veins, threatening to stop his breath. _Luke can’t be dead_ he thinks to himself. _I’d know. I’d know_ , he repeats, like a mantra. Then there are solid hands on his shoulders, warmth that seeps deep into his bones, and Wedge looks up and Tycho is there.

“He’s…” Tycho hesitates. “Nothing bad has happened. But you need to come home, Wedge.”

Wedge isn’t really sure he knows where home is, not anymore. Not since his parents were killed on Gus Treta. He’d almost found it in Luke’s blue eyes and kind smile and the cockpit of an X-Wing, but if he’d ever had that he’d lost it. But he looks at Tycho, remembers how hard he’d fought to bring his friend back home once before, and trusts that Tycho will do that same for him.

“Yeah,” Wedge says. “That sounds like a good idea.”

.

There’s just enough space in the ship’s cargo hole to put the spare X-Wing. Tycho takes the pilot’s seat and Wedge sits in the back and stays quiet while they fly half-way across the galaxy, to a planet Wedge hasn’t been to before. Considering how many he’s visited in past months, that’s saying something. They land in a small hangar. Wedge notes the contingent of mismatched ships in the corner – T-65 X-Wings next to T-80s, an R-Z1 A-Wing interceptor next to a pair of BTL-S3 Y-Wings – and asks: “What is going on here?”

“Leia might have found herself with an army,” Tycho replies.

The way he phrases it makes it sound like an accident. But Wedge knows Leia: she never does anything by accident. Especially not something like assembling an army. Not when Mon Mothma’s Demilitarisation Act has been Republic Law for fourteen years. Leia has to know she’s taking a huge risk, in defying the law they’d all agreed to live by.

For the first time, Wedge starts to think that his quest for Luke is insignificant next to the greater goings on in the Galaxy. There is clearly something bigger in play than he understands.

As Tycho weaves through corridors, Wedge passes several faces he recognises and several he doesn’t. Old faces of the Alliance, mixed amongst kids who can barely be past their age of majority, youngsters with hope on their faces but heaviness in their hearts.

Tycho brings him into what looks to be a make-shift command centre, and stops. Wedge can hear the distinctive yelling that signals an Organa-Solo fight. Besides him, Tycho sighs. “They’re at it again,” he says, with a weariness to his tone that says this is an all too common occurrence these days.

“When aren’t they?” Lando Calrissian sweeps in, clapping Wedge on the shoulder. “Glad to see you, man,” he says with a smile. “You look awful.”

Wedge shrugs it off. He’s too busy listening to the snatches of conversation that he can overhear from Leia’s office. “I can’t believe you let him go!” he hears Leia yell. It’s followed by mutterings of “thin” and “gaunt” and “wasn’t well”. Behind him, Tycho and Lando are talking, something about tactics and movements and Lando’s presence here instead of the Outer Rim where he belongs, and Wedge tries to tune it out.

“What was I gonna do, drag him back here by force?!” Han yells back. Wedge wonders who they’re talking about; whether it’s Ben or Luke or someone else entirely. “It’s not my place to stop him looking. You and Luke didn’t think of giving up on me, did you?” There’s a pause, and Wedge is confused. “He’s in love with Luke. I don’t think he’s just going to let it go.”

Oh.

Han and Leia are arguing about him.

Wedge can’t have that. He’s not the one who’s important in all this, they should be focused on looking for their son, or for Luke, not worrying about his well-being. He’s stepped forward and is pushing the door to Leia’s office before he really knows what he’s doing. Inside, Leia is standing behind her desk, staring up at Han who has his hands on the desk and looks surprised at being interrupted. “Wedge,” Leia says, no doubt wondering how much he overheard.

“I’ll see myself out,” Han says, vanishing out the door before Leia can say anything.

She stares at him leaving, eyebrows furrowed, deep worry lines across her forehead. Her mouth is pursed like she’s holding back what she really wants to say. Wedge almost opens his mouth to tell her to go after him, that she shouldn’t leave unspoken what she wants to say, but he doesn’t. He just looks around the room, waiting for her to speak. Then he sees R2 in the corner.

“Sit down, Wedge,” Leia says.

Wedge doesn’t. He’s fixated on the droid in the corner, Luke’s droid, the droid who would never willingly leave Luke’s side. If he’s here, then there has to be news on Luke.

“Sit,” Leia repeats. She takes her own seat, behind her desk, and Wedge thinks it might not be wise to get her to ask again. So he sits, in the remaining chair that’s been provided for him.

“Leia, is Luke…” Wedge trails off. Leia still has the same hard look on her face. “He’s not here, is he?”

“No,” Leia answers simply. She glances to R2. “R2 found us a couple of weeks back. As soon as he saw me, he went into low-power mode. We’ve tried to access his memory banks, but he’s locked us out.”

Wedge’s brain sparks with half a dozen ideas, but he clamps his mouth shut. If Leia says they can’t get into them, they can’t get into them. But his hands are still itching – there could be a lead, some trace of where Luke’s gone, in there somewhere. Wedge can’t just sit here and not do something about it.

“Wedge.” Leia’s eyes are wide and full of concern. “You have to stop doing this.”

She says it in that same voice that she’s issued thousands of orders with; the voice she’s used as she briefs pilots and sends soldiers to their death. Every part of Wedge’s military training tells him to listen, to obey what she’s saying. At the same time, he wants to deny it. Tell her he has no idea what she’s talking about, turn around and leave and get back in his ship and keep searching for Luke.

“Have you looked at yourself lately?” she says. “You look like a wreck. You’re driving yourself into the ground. You can’t go on like this.” She pauses, and then she adds: “Please. We’ve lost so many good people, we can’t stand to lose you too.”

Her words, an echo of what she’d said on Hoth all those years ago (the first time Luke had gone missing, the first time Wedge had been left behind), finally get through to him. He sits in his chair, finally still, and lets the truth sink through his bones.

“He’s not coming back, is he?”

Leia shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

Wedge lets his frame go loose, falling forward slightly, head bowed. “He’s fled. Gone in search of some old Jedi temple, that’s taken him completely off the map. Like I feared from the beginning.”

Leia’s expression is uncomfortable, but she nods. “That’s my suspicion. Wherever it is, we won’t find it.” She looks at him, willing comfort, but there’s a desk between them and something that feels uncomfortably like military protocol. “I know you cared for him Wedge, and I know this is going to be difficult for you.”

Wedge is thankful for her acknowledgement, even if it is measured terms. There’s a world of difference between _cared for_ and _in love with_ and Wedge can’t quite sort through it all to be able to clearly define to Leia exactly where he is. But he knows that his pining for Luke, his grief, is insignificant next to what Leia lost. Her brother and her son, taken in one fell swoop.

“Thank you,” he says. “How’s the search for Ben going?”

Leia suddenly goes cold and Wedge knows he’s misstepped.

“Wedge—” Leia starts, then pauses. Wedge has never seen her look so unsure. “There’s some things I need to tell you.”

.

Wedge can’t believe it. Ben Organa-Solo was the perpetrator of the Jedi Temple Massacre. Not missing, but defected to the First Order. The military regime that was pieced together from the last scraps of the Empire, who weren’t thought to pose any substantial threat to the Galaxy. It turns out they were wrong.

“Who else knows?” Wedge asks. He knows he’s been out of the loop, but this must have been kept quiet. It would be chaos if this got out; the darling child of Leia Organa, a traitor? It would vindicate what people have been saying for years about her heritage, that the line of Anakin Skywalker cannot be trusted.

“You. Me. Han. Chewie. Lando.” Leia counts them off. It’s a short list. “Luke. Though he’s hardly going to tell anyone,” she adds.

Wedge understands the weight of what Leia’s just handed him. He could destroy her career with this. Destroy everything she’s ever worked for. “I’ll keep it quiet,” Wedge says. “There’s no good that will come of people knowing.”

“It’ll get out eventually,” Leia says, with the grace of a woman who has spent her entire life preparing for disaster. “It just needs time. The wound is still fresh.”

“What are you going to do now?” Wedge asks.

“I don’t know,” Leia says. And Wedge looks at her and knows she means it. He’s rarely seen her so unsure. “Han still thinks we can find him and drag him back and make it all better, though I don’t know how we can. Even if we discount how we’d make it work, we can’t find him. And day by day the First Order is getting stronger, and the Republic is powerless to stand against it. We have to do something, before everything we fought for was for nothing.” There is steel in her eyes. Leia’s soul was always forged for war; she thrived in battle in a way her brother never had.

“Everyone here would fight for you, Leia. You have an army,” Wedge says. “If there’s anyone who can win this fight, it’s you.”

“I know,” Leia replies, with the poise of a woman about to go to war. “What will you do? There is a place for you here, if you want it.”

Wedge knows there is; knows that he could leave the Republic behind and fight, like nothing has changed since they were children and the entire Galaxy was in danger. But Wedge is not as young as he once was, and he’s not sure that this is the place for it. “Let me have some time to think about it?” he asks.

Leia smiles as if his answer isn’t a foregone conclusion. “Of course.”

.

Wedge stands in front of a mirror and thinks _Leia was right_.

Now that he’s finally taken the scruff off his face, he can see how thin his cheeks have got. The looseness of the flight jacket on his frame. He hadn’t intentionally starved himself, just that it had been one of the furthest things from his mind to eat. He’d been so focused that he’d forgotten to look after himself.

He can’t go on like this. He’s no good to anyone.

He splashes water over his face, trying to draw himself back into life. His reflection is still pale, with dark, red-rimmed eyes. There’s nothing he can do about that, other than rest and acceptance. For now, he’ll just have to go on.

Tycho’s waiting for him, when he finally comes out of the quarters Leia assigned him. His friend rakes his eyes up and down Wedge’s frame. “You’re looking much better, boss,” he says. “Now let’s get some food into you.”

Wedge is grateful for Tycho’s solid, dependable silence as they eat. There aren’t questions about what Wedge is going to do now, not questions about what in the galaxy Wedge was thinking when he spent all that time chasing after Luke. Nothing enquiring as to Wedge’s feelings – now he’s had time to think, he wonders how many people heard Han’s declaration of _he’s in love with Luke_ and how many knew who it referred to.

(He and Luke were never a secret, per sé; they never kept their relationship from the rest of the Rogues. But they didn’t talk about it either. And after so many years, one could be forgiven for being confused that Wedge was still hung up on Luke. Normal people moved on. Wedge hadn’t.)

But Tycho might know to let Wedge have his dignity, he still has questions. He’s not voicing them, just watching Wedge out the corner of his eye.

“You’re going to stay.” Wedge says to Tycho; it’s not a question, not when he knows Tycho almost as well as he knows himself.

Tycho drums his fingers against the table. “It’s Leia.” And that’s all the explanation needed. Tycho is Alderaanian, down to his very core, and when the princess tells him to jump, his first response will always be to ask how high. The thought of not fighting for what she believes in has never crossed his mind.

Wedge nods. He knows there’s more to it (that Tycho has never believed in the disarmament act, that he thinks it happened too soon, that the Empire was never fully extinguished; that he still lives in fear that what happened to Alderaan could happen again) but none of that needs to be said. They know the other knows it.

So, safe in the knowledge that Leia will have at least one competent pilot on her side, Wedge goes to deliver the bad news.

“You’re going back to the Navy,” Leia says, as soon as she sees him, before he can say anything.

“I can’t stay here,” Wedge says. “Fighting here, alongside you and everyone else; it’ll remind me of him too much. I’ll be itching to go and look for him again within a month, and I can’t have that. I can’t do that.”

Leia nods. “I understand.”

“It’s funny,” Wedge continues, words suddenly flooding out of his mouth. He needs someone to know. “I’ve lived with being in love with Luke for so long that it became background noise. Part of the facts of my life: I’m Wedge Antilles, I’m a Commander in the New Republic Fleet, my parents owned a re-fuelling station on Gus Treta, I’m in love with Luke Skywalker. A constant buzz of warmth and light. It was comforting, I was used to it.” He sighs. “But now that he’s gone, now that I won’t see him again—”

“It’s all consuming,” Leia says. “Like someone’s thrown gas on the the fire, it suddenly flares up and overtakes you and it’s _all_ that you can think about. Every fibre of your being thrums with desire, and all you want is them back.” She looks at Wedge, and her eyes are full of sympathy. “I know, Wedge. I’ve been there.”

“I don’t know how to make it stop.” Wedge clenches his hands into fists, and tries not to let the weight of his feelings overwhelm him. “And I know I can’t be sending kids out to fight a war like this. Maybe some day, but not now. There’s worth in the Republic, Leia, and sometimes that’s worth fighting for. Besides, you’ll need someone to fight your corner with the Navy. I can do that.” He mutters under his breath, then repeats it a little louder. “They were going to offer me a role teaching at the academy before I went on this harebrained hunt. That’s where I’m needed. This isn’t going to be our war, it’s going to be theirs. If I can train them as best I can, give them the best chance of surviving—” He takes a deep breath. “That’ll make life worth living. I can do that for you.”

Leia bows her head in acceptance. “There will always be a place for you here, if you want it,” she says.

“Thank you,” Wedge says.

He turns to leave. There’s no point in overstaying his welcome. “Wedge—” Leia says, but she hesitates. Wedge stops in the door, turning back to her. “He loves you too. He never said it, but he didn’t have to. I just thought you should know.”

Wedge nods. He doesn’t say anything; he knows his voice will break and that will be the end of his pretence that he can cope; as it is, he knows his eyes are wet, that tears are threatening to overflow.

He goes. Turns his back on the woman who could have been his sister-in-law, leaves behind the task of seeking redemption for the boy who could have been his nephew; abandons the search for the man he loves. Curses all those missed years, all that lost opportunity.

He can’t dwell on it; it’ll pull him under and he’ll drown in his grief, and that’s exactly what he’s trying to avoid.

.

It’s a bright clear day at the New Republic Naval Academy.

High Command had taken Wedge back, after raking him over coals about his disappearing act, then given him the assignment that Wedge had always known was coming. A class of bright eager young things to teach, to mould into soldiers and fighters and pilots. He stands in front of them and can already hear the whispers, the excitement that’s flowing through those of them that recognise him.

It’s been a month since he stopped searching for Luke. It’s not been easy. He still wakes up most mornings missing him, seized by a desire to get out and search, a feeling that he _must_ get moving, get out and scour the galaxy for any trace. But cooler heads prevail, and Wedge has kept his feet on the ground. There will come a day when the fire burns low, when the sharp pain in his chest recedes to a dull ache, but for now he just has to learn how to live with it.

He knows he’ll get there. It’ll just take time. But he has that, and he has friends to see him through this. He thinks they’ve made a pact, to make sure he isn’t left alone; ensure that he doesn’t take off on another useless crusade. Part of Wedge is frustrated that they believe he’d need such babysitting, but the other part of him understands how difficult it must be for them to let him out their sight.

Wes is beside him even now, having somehow convinced someone in Fleet Command that he’s an adequate role model for young minds. Wedge isn’t convinced, but it’s nice to have him here: to turn his head and see a familiar face. Reassuring. He needs that.

He looks out to the sea of faces before him. He sees glimpses of the past in them, faces of pilots he once knew interspersed with the unfamiliar. Wedge shakes his head. He can’t dwell on the past now. The recruits before him clear into fresh faces, bright eyes and eager smiles.

(Apart from one: one still bears the trappings of someone Wedge once knew. He looks again, and realises that Poe Dameron – Shara and Kes’s boy – is in his class. He’s standing next to a Keshian boy, desperately pretending to be calm. He has so much of his mother in him.)

“Welcome to the Republic Naval Academy,” Wedge says. “If you didn’t already know who I am, I’m Commander Wedge Antilles, and this is Captain Wes Janson, and yes, we were the team who took down the first AT-AT on Hoth.”

“If you’d like our autographs, office hours are from two til four, you can come see us then,” Wes quips. It gets a laugh out of the cadets, putting some of the more nervous ones at ease. “And Commander Antilles’ ship with both death star kills is in the hanger, for those of you interested in your military history.”

“However, we’re not here as heroes of the Alliance. We’re here to be your teachers. When you leave here, you’ll be fully qualified to serve as a Starfighter Pilot in the New Republic Navy, or your local planetary defence force.”

Wedge has done a lot of teaching over the years. He’s the one who oversaw Luke’s first X-Wing simulation, taught him the controls before the Alliance put him in a ship he barely knew. Has handled sorting Imperial Defectors to the Alliance, and ensuring their skills were up to scratch. Took an entire squadron of failing recruits and turned them into fierce fighters, all for the sake of a bet. He’s good at it. He knows what he’s doing. This will be his new comfort zone.

“So,” he says with a smile. “Who wants to tell me what the four basic flight controls are?”


End file.
